To Hell and Back
by This Coffee Tastes Like Crap
Summary: "You forged my signature," she said, "and sold my soul to the devil, didn't you?" Ruth has to deal with a greedy husband who loves her a little too much, an absentminded angel who keeps forgetting that humans are finite beings and can die quite easily, and a pastor who absolutely refuses to wear clothing no matter what anyone else says. (Not sacrilegious, but still humorous)
1. Prologue: What the Hell?

**So I've reached a brain fart in my other stories, and while looking for the Percy Jackson Fandom I found a _BIBLE FANDOM_ of all things...**

 **Anyway, I had this idea in my head for a long while, but was reluctant to put it on FictionPress because it's _technically_ (according to a teacher) a fanfic, and FANFICTION APPARENTLY AGREES**

 **So yeah, this is humorous and not overly spiritual, but it is not (intended) to be sacrilegious, blasphemous, or in any way offensive to the Christian faith-merely a dumb idea that has been floating around in my head.**

 **Now that that's cleared up, LINK START! (lets see how many people get this reference XD)**

 _Part I: 1906_

"So…do we have a deal?"

A young, richly dressed man looked over the paper Satan gave him. It was pretty straightforward, but you never know with the devil. "Will I be able to be with my wife?"

Lucifer, who decided to mimic the look of an angel exuding brilliance and beauty, laughed out loud. "Of _course_ not, you fool. She'd have to sell _her_ soul as well!"

The young, richly dressed man sighed. Now _that_ won't do. She was Christian through and through, and too sweet to serve in hell. If he got his wish, he'd have to be separate from her for all eternity…

He made up his mind right then. He loved her enough to spend an eternity in hell. She always said she loves him as much as he loves her, so she'll be willing to live in hell with him too, right?

 _Till death do us part,_ He thought, _our love transcends death itself! Hell would be heaven with my wife by my side…_

"Give me another sheet."

The angel of light raised an eyebrow. "Why? You only have one soul to sell…"

"I want one for my wife," the man said, "I want to be in hell with her."

Satan gave him a confused look. "That's…that's not quite how it works…"

"Well then _make_ it work!" The young, richly dressed man snapped. "With all this talk about being better than God, you sure are a pansy."

At that, Lucifer quite literally exploded into a great ball of flames. "You _dare_ call the Great Demon himself a…a _pansy_!"

"Give me another sheet and I'll grovel at your feet for mercy and forgiveness," the man replied.

Satan rolled his eyes and gave him another form. "There. Now grovel."

" _Oh please I beg of you, oh great one_!" the man cried, falling to his knees. " _I know now you're not a pansy_! Can you _ever_ forgive me?"

"Now you're just mocking me," Lucifer muttered. "Get the hell out of my sight before I change my mind."

The man got back on his feet and smirked. "Thank you, oh great Mocker."

Satan narrowed his eyes at him. "Go to hell."

"That's the plan!" the young, richly dressed man replied as he disappeared back into existence.

* * *

"Oh Ruth~!"

Ruth LaRouge, William's beautiful fiancée, turned and saw her husband jogging towards her as she sat in her garden. "Yes?"

The way she smiled still made his heard fluttered just like it did when he first met her—she was uncharacteristically tan, a perfect gold-brown color from a time of working on the plains as well as having a distant Native-American ancestry. Wavy, black hair was pulled into a neat bun, stray hairs falling down her forehead the way they always did when she worked-an interesting hobby considering the vast amount of servants they possessed. Her eyes were a bright, beautiful green, and often William found himself getting lost in them.

"…Will?"

…as he was now.

Shaking his head, William approached her and gave her a piece of paper. "It's a doctor's form. It's…ah…permission for us to have a baby!"

Unfortunately, Ruth wasn't stupid—it was one of the many things he loved about her, but now he wished she lacked the common sense most low-born people had. "I've never heard of that before," she said doubtfully, "Why do we need _permission_?"

"I-well…Insurance!" Will replied, "Yeah, to cover the child! You want our child to be covered, right?"

It was true—nobody wants an uninsured baby. "….whatever you say," she said, starting to read the paper.

"O-oh you don't need to read it," Will said hastily, "see, I already signed mine—all they need is your signature!"

"I don't think so," she said doubtfully, "That wouldn't make any sense. Wouldn't they would have us sign the same—?"

Her eyes widened, and he face-palmed. "Are you _insane_ William?!" she screamed, "Y-You're trying to trick me into selling my soul to the—the _devil_?!"

 _Well_ that _worked out well…_

William sighed. "Darling—"

"Don't you _darling_ me!" Ruth shrieked, tearing up the paper in a fiery rage. "I _refuse_! Why on earth—!?"

She saw the paper in his hands and gasped. "W-William…" she whispered, "you…you _didn't_ …"

"I don't want to be alone in hell without you," William cooed, "I love you—"

" _No_!" Ruth screamed, "If you _loved_ me you'd forgo whatever the _devil_ _himself_ is tempting you with! Not drag me down _with_ you!"

"Ruth—"

"No means _no_!"

Sighing in defeat, William stalked away in a mixture of anger and disappointment.

"I already gave you another sheet!" Lucifer—who decided on a reptilian beast-like look this time—accused, "What, does your cousin want in too!?"

"My wife ripped up the second one," William admitted, "so I need another one."

Satan stared at him for a moment. "Sorry to say this, but if she wants out, she's getting it…"

William glared at the Great Demon. "Then can't you change her mind!?"

"God's jurisdiction, not mine." When William gave him an irritated sigh, Satan rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah yeah I know, it's pretty bad…it irks me too."

"Can you _please_ just give me another paper?"

The prince of darkness sighed and handed him another form. "How to you plan on convincing her to sign it?" he asked, "last time it didn't work out so well."

"I'm not," Will said, putting the form on his knee and writing on it.

"Whoa whoa whoa _wait_!" Lucifer shouted in alarm, "you already turned in yours! You can't—"

"Here," William said, handing the form back.

The devil stared at the form for a moment, and then nodded. "I see…forging is allowed, I guess…"

William exhaled. He knew there was no convincing his wife to be in hell with him, that much was true. However he'd seen her signature many times—he had even forged it for her once before when she was ill and asked him to. She can also forge his, but that's beside the point.

 _No matter what_ , he thought, _my wife_ will _be by my side._

"Well congratulations," Lucifer said happily, the paper disappearing into flames. "You just found yourself a loophole. Have fun with your wife in hell!"


	2. Hope?

"William."

Ruth stood there as she waited for her husband to turn from his work. "Yes lo—"

He gasped as he stared at her, and Ruth waited patiently as he registered the major differences—her black hair had turned blood red, her eyes were a piercing yellow, and her canines had grown impossibly sharp. She had retained her skin color, bone, muscle, and facial structure, the only exception being her hands—her nails were like thick, sharp claws, and there were little diamond shaped piece of bone sticking out of her knuckles. On her left middle finger was a ruby embedded into her flesh, right above the knuckle.

"…Ruth…" he said slowly, getting up and backing away. "You…you look… _different_ …"

"You forged my signature," she said bluntly, "and you sold my soul to the devil didn't you?"

Will's face went from shock to terror. "N-now…honey…you know I love you…"

Now, normally Ruth is a patient woman—eldest of fourteen, twelve of whom were boys. She used to be on the plains, but once she married into money she didn't have to lift a finger to work, and that drove her insane. As a result, she's grown to love any piece of work and didn't have much of a temper.

…until now.

Before Will could finish, Ruth raised her hand and slapped him across the face. Apparently she was stronger than she was before, because Will flew from his office chair and through the wall—and the two after it.

"You did this to me," she growled, "you sent me to _hell_ for your own _selfish_ _gain_!"

"I-I wanted to be with you!" Will shouted, shielding his hands. "I-I love you—"

" _BULLSHIT!_ " Ruth cursed. She had never cursed before, and it actually was… _relieving_.

Realizing how therapeutic foul language was, she continued to use it.

"You really _fucking_ think that dragging your own _goddamn wife_ to _hell_ would fix everything!?" she demanded, "I hope you burn in hell _alone_ you dirty piece of _shit_!"

Will whimpered at his wife's foul language. "I…I…"

"You're a poor excuse for a husband," she seethed, "I _hate_ you!"

She waited for a response and realized that her fiancé was unconscious.

Sighing, Ruth stalked through the ruins that used to be her home. She had no idea what to do—she was absolutely stuck. The only thing left was to either be cursed with immortality or die and burn in hell.

"I say we go for the first one."

Ruth turned around and saw a woman wearing all white—a white dress with white hair, and white eyes. She was at least seven feet tall and the only non-white thing about her was her golden skin and the golden aura she emitted. She was so bright that Ruth had to look away, but not without seeing a set of gigantic dove's wings folded behind her.

"F-forgive me," Ruth stammered, falling to her knees. "I—I tried to resist—but-but Will—"

"Do not be afraid," the woman said, "I'm sent to help. Thus the reason you're going to live for a long time—to prevent you from falling into hell long enough to get you back you heaven."

Ruth stared at her hands. "If God is all powerful," she said slowly, "a-and I don't mean to be blasphemous…but why doesn't he just remove my curse?"

The woman laughed. It was a beautiful sound, and it rang like church bells on a Sunday afternoon. "What would be the point in that?" the woman asked, "He wants you to _learn_ something!"

"I have," Ruth muttered, "be careful about who you marry."

"But there's more," the woman said, "you work for everything—you enjoy the fruits of your labor. However, that can sometimes lead to pride, can it not?"

Ruth opened her mouth to respond, only to realize that she was right. "O-oh," she stammered, "I…I never thought of it that way…"

"No worries," the woman said brightly, "I'm here to help you! I'm Jophiel by the way."

"Jophiel," Ruth said, "the angel of beauty?"

Jophiel nodded, smiling. "You can say that, yes," she said, "though it's mostly personality based—most everything is bestowed upon you by God Himself."

Ruth nodded, still looking at the ground. Her head was spinning at a blinding speed from…well _everything_. She had just turned into a demon of some sort and now and angel of the Lord appears to her and says that she needs to be humbled all within the span of five minutes.

How does that even _happen_?

"Stand up Ruth LaRouge," Jophiel said kindly, "I'm not going to bite."

After a bit of hesitation, Ruth stood and looked up at Jophiel. The wings were gone, as was the golden aura that used to surround her. Now she was wearing a white corset with a white bustle skirt, the overskirt having intricate little gold and sky blue patterns on it. She had shrunk as well, and she was now only a head taller than Ruth.

"Now, Miss LaRouge," Jophiel said, "Let's find you a new home, yes?"

Ruth looked to her unconscious husband. "What about Will?"

Jophiel sighed. "Miss LaRouge…" she said slowly, "…he's dead."

Suddenly Ruth couldn't breathe. A sob escaped her mouth and she fell back on her knees. He was probably burning in hell as they spoke.

But they were going to have a _family_ together! She was just growing to love him—dealing with all of his flaws and growing a fondness for them…

And she killed him.

But it wasn't her fault—he turned her into a _monster_! All so he could achieve his stupid wish! He was being selfish!

But what _was_ his wish? She was so angry with him that she never bothered to ask…

…and now she'll never know.

Tears streamed down her face as Ruth covered her mouth to muffle another sob. She didn't _mean_ to kill him—she was just so _angry_ —!

"I'm sorry Miss LaRouge," Jophiel apologized, bowing her head.

Ruth stared at her fiancé as numbness covered her. It wasn't a bad one—it was comforting, telling her it was alright. The pain, shock, and grief lessened, and—while still there—became bearable.

"Thank you, Miss Jophiel," Ruth whispered.

"You're welcome," she replied, "now, Miss LaRouge, I must insist that we leave. Now that you're in your current state, we can't let the others see you until you get a grasp on your powers."

Ruth stood up as she took a shaky breath and wiped her eyes. "My… my powers?"

Jophiel nodded. "Yes," she replied, "and then we can work to reverse the curse. It _is_ possible, so we must not lose hope."

Ruth nodded. "Hope…"

She got mixed feelings when she heard that word.


	3. Food

The next thing Ruth knew she was standing in an area filled with nothing but orange trees.

"Here," Jophiel said, walking through the groves, "I have a friend who lives here. We'll stay until we have this condition of yours under control, yes?"

Ruth blindly followed her, completely confused. "'Condition' is the understatement of the century Miss Jophiel," she muttered, "and who is this friend of yours?"

"But it's only the beginning of the twentieth," Jophiel pointed out, "So don't speak so soon. Also, call me Josephine Adams. It blends in better."

"Alright Miss Adams," Ruth said as they made their way through the orange trees, "May I take one?"

"Oh you can, but I wouldn't recommend it," Josephine said, laughing lightly. "As a succubus you can't really appreciate normal foods…except for chocolate."

"I'm a _what_!?" Ruth demanded, stopping in her tracks. "I will _not_ seduce men in their sleep!"

Josephine sighed. "Miss LaRouge," she said, "not _all_ succubae do that. The _majority_ of them do, but it's to _survive_. They live off of the _emotion_ —a few succubae feed off of dreams or other emotion, such as anger or even happiness."

Ruth nodded and continued to walk with Josephine. "Well," she said, "why can succubae eat chocolate?"

"I'm not sure," Josephine admitted, "but we angels can eat it too. Our sense of taste for human food is dulled—maybe we like it because it's so sweet?"

"But everything else tastes bland for demons and angels?"

Josephine thought for a moment. "Well I know cherubim _love_ to eat oranges," she said, "but I'm not sure why—but we both can have non-human food like emotions, auras, and blessed or cursed food."

"Blessed…and cursed?"

Josephine thought for a moment. "For angels, food prayed over by other angels or pastors retain their full taste—but demons such as yourself will get what can only be described as 'food poisoning' from it. However, if a cult, a high-ranking demon, or something along those lines were to 'bless' the food, you can eat it just fine. Unblessed chocolate is fair game for both sides, and cherubim devour oranges like wraiths devour souls!"

The new demoness laughed lightly. "Well that must account for the endless rows of orange trees we're wandering in."

The angel stopped and looked as if she remembered something. "Oh! Right!" she said, turning around and walking in the opposite direction. "We were going to my friend's home!"

Ruth sighed as she followed after her. "Where did you _think_ we're going Miss Adams?"

"I usually take a different route," Josephine said, "And it leads through heaven first, and that'd be bad to bring you along—imagine how sacrilegious it would be to bring a _demon_ into _Heaven_!"

For the first time, Ruth realized what being a succubus really meant.

"Miss Adams," she said, "If…if we don't get my 'condition' under control…will I be sent to hell for eternity?"

Josephine didn't reply.

Deciding to take her silence as a yes, Ruth followed quietly behind.

"Here we are!" Josephine said as they approached a large manor. It was a blinding white, and Ruth had to look down to avoid being blinded.

However, Ruth stopped when she saw a white, glowing line before her on the ground. She looked side to side and realized that in encompassed the entire manor. After putting two and two together, she realized that it was the barrier making the manor glow, and not the manor itself.

Suddenly she felt the instinct to flee, but she held still.

"Miss LaRouge," Josephine said, a ways off. "What's keeping you? Come along!"

Ruth went to follow, but common sense didn't let her feet leave their spot.

"…Miss LaRouge?"

"Miss Adams," Ruth said carefully, "what is this surrounding your house?"

Josephine smiled. "Clever girl," she said, "it's a _Sanctus porta_ , or _holy gate_. If a demon steps through, they're immediately sent down to one of the deepest parts of hell."

"…was that a test?" Ruth asked, looking at her suspiciously. "…or are you actually trying to kill me?"

"It was merely a test Miss LaRouge," Josephine affirmed, "merely a test."

Ruth didn't really feel safe with Josephine anymore, but she sighed. "Can you take the holy gate down?"

Josephine murmured a few words in a language Ruth didn't understand, and then the light vanished. "There we go," she said happily, "its safe now."

Taking a deep breath, Ruth followed Josephine to the manor.

"Well that worked out _so_ well."

After a considerable amount of effort, Will opened his eyes and sat up slowly. "H-huh…?"

"Hi."

When his eyes adjusted, he realized that Satan had taken the appearance of a wealthy business man—he can still tell it was him by his impossibly dark eyes, black as night from the whites to the pupil.

"Props for trying though," Satan continued, "Now you'll have your wish granted."

"B-but…" Will looked down at the ground. His wife was nowhere to be found—what was the point if she wasn't by his side? That was the point of this entire situation—to be with his wife no matter what!

"…she must hate me."

"I'm sure she does," Satan agreed. When Will glared at him, the devil raised his hands. "Hey, don't ask me to make you feel better—you're lucky I'm telling it as it is instead of sugar coating it for you to give you false hope."

Running a hand through his hair, William growled in frustration. His hands weren't as grotesque as his wife's, but black hair fell in front of his eyes—hair that was previously blonde.

"I…I want to change my wish," he said at last.

"Nope," was Satan's blunt reply. "You'll need to give up another soul, which you do not have—and if you go around forging people's signatures, it'll be _their_ dreams that will be fulfilled, not yours."

He didn't realize that he was crying until he wiped his eyes. He cursed himself and his wife to this fate, and now they can't even be together…

 _What's the point_?

"Wait," the devil said suddenly, "There is _one_ loophole you can take advantage of—if you're willing—"

"I'll do anything!" William cried, kneeling in front of the devil. "P-Please! I-I just want to be with my wife!"

The Devil grinned. "Good," he replied, "You will."


End file.
